Caitlin And The Cowboy (Western Night Series 4)

by Rosie Harper

  “Yeeeeesssssss!” the man screamed as loud as he possibly could, all while holding two bloody pieces of silver he just pulled out of the pockets of his friend’s carcass: a knife and a fork. Having wiped these makeshift weapons to be as clean as he possibly could, George made sure to place them where they’d be readily available for use: between his waist and the hunting belt he wore.

  Whether or not they will be any good to me remains to be seen, he told himself. Regardless, there was one thing the one-eyed hunter was certain of: A lot more blood is to be shed tonight.

  ***

  Legs still numb from excitement and fear, Josie’s gaze leapt from one corner of the cave to the other. She was alone, her bear-man having left to check out their surroundings one more time. This shelter, he said, had been made to provide refuge from any and all intruders, be they humans or others like him.

  My God, there are more of them, Mark’s words still echoed in her ears.Shape-shifters, living in the wilds of America, she repeated them. It still didn’t stick. Perhaps it will, in time.

  Other “weres”, however, were not available for helping the pair from a situation like this. If Josie and her lover were to stumble into the territory of another shifter, that territory’s master would have hunted the two of them down just like her husband’s party would.

  Oh, George, she thought, genuinely regretful of the way it had all turned out. Why did you have to be so damn stubborn?

  Not wanting to think about that, Josie shook her head, hoping that the memory of her former husband getting hit on the head by a rampaging monster would fade from her consciousness. It didn’t.

  In an attempt to drive her mind toward something, anything other than the previous train of thought, she took another look at their sanctum, even though it was all burned in her memory by now. Located in the inside of a cave and furnished with broken wood and animal skins, it was a perfectly functional parody of a human apartment, made all the more cozy by generous helpings of a certain musk.

  The musk was not entirely unpleasant, but it overwhelmed every other scent in the place. Apparently, the smell served to drive away potential animals and invading shifters as a mark of her bear-man’s territory. For those who knew what it meant, it served its purpose. Human interlopers on the other hand, would simply be discouraged by a complete lack of any wildlife.

  Contrary to what she initially thought, her own shape-shifter had been a denizen of human lands before, until he decided it was not worth the effort. With all that happened in the so-called civilized world while he was away, she thought, it’s no wonder that he decided to leave.

  Suddenly, the loud footsteps of Mike’s human form roused Josie from her ponderous state. Mirthful, she squinted in an attempt to get a good look at the werebear as he approached. The torchlight was sufficient, but her eyes were simply not used to looking under such relatively weak lighting. Doesn’t matter, she thought. I’ll have plenty of time to adapt.

  The very second she laid her eyes on his powerful, hirsute form, Josie felt her juices flow. Even though she could barely see the man, the previously tight lips of her nether regions started opening, turned ravenous by his very presence. Such was the animalistic passion that this shape-shifter enticed in her.

  “We shouldn’t have let those torches burn,” was all he said in place of a greeting. Speaking in English was quickly becoming easier and easier for him. Like riding a bike, I guess.

  “Come on, Mark, you don’t expect me to wait for you all alone in the dark, do you?” she asked, smiling, as she rose from her sitting position with such visible glee that the entirety of her feminine body jiggled alluringly.

  In response, the shape-shifter’s manhood rose up almost immediately. From his expression, however, it was apparent that he was not completely into it at the moment. Regardless of this, he grabbed Josie by the waist like he did before, lifting her off the ground so he could stare directly into her eyes.

  “There is a time for everything, my prize,” the way he referred to Josie only made her want him more. “And now is not a good time for that.”

  Having noticed the disappointment in the woman’s eyes, though, his expression quickly changed into one of benevolent amusement. “However, that doesn’t mean that we can’t make a small exception here and there.”

  Still smiling, the large man let Josie down on her feet before sitting onto the floor himself, his erection clearly visible. Then, spreading his arms in a welcoming way, he gestured for her to join in.

  Impressed by Mark’s willingness to please her even in this situation, Josie sensually got down on all fours, purring as her mouth approached his erect member. ”Mark, honey, this gigantic thing is anything but small,” she managed to say before enveloping the shape-shifter’s colossal erection with her pouting lips.

  “But this was only to warm you up, big man,” she spoke again soon, pulling his wet, throbbing manhood out of her mouth. “The main attraction is just about to begin,” Josie finished her sentence, ready to lunge forward and impale herself on her anticipating lover.

  A second before she managed to do so, however, a thunderous noise exploded from the cave’s entrance, followed by an ugly splashing sound right in front of her. Still not grasping exactly what was going on, Josie felt her chest getting wet, sprayed by a gush of warm blood originating right in front of her.

  Raising her head in disbelief, an unsuspecting Josie soon found herself faced with a sight she never expected to witness: one of Mark, gasping for breath, prostrated in front of her with a palm-wide, bleeding hole in his chest. Eyes wide, the wild man stared toward the cave’s entrance with an expression of shock and existential fear.

  A series of hurried footsteps followed, getting dangerously close within a couple of seconds. By the time Josie managed to compose herself enough to turn around, it had already been too late: George’s panting, scarred mug towered above her, and her own delicate features immediately got forced into a private appointment with the blunt end of a rifle.

  Having hit the cold stone of the cave with the side of her face, momentarily deprived of control over her body, Josie could only cringe in desperation as the horrifying sounds of more gunshots resonated throughout the place that was supposed to be the pair’s safe haven.

  Damn my stupidity, were all the rational thoughts she could conjure up, as a series of horrible slashing sounds replaced those of gunfire. Just barely and with the corner of one eye, Josie managed to catch a glimpse of an animalistic, but physically very human George, tearing through Mark’s exposed innards with a pair of sharp implements, his presumably empty firearm dropped onto the floor.

  Her limbs shaking and body completely numb, Josie conjured all the strength she could in an attempt to get up, but all she could do was to get about an inch of distance between her face and the floor before painfully hitting it again. Still reeling from that blow to the head, her body flat out refused to move.

  Then, part of the haze lifted, and with it came the ability to decipher some of the previously unintelligible words that the man who used to be her husband screamed as he kept ripping through her lover’s flesh.

  “Stupid, filthy animal!” he exclaimed, right before digging into the downed shifter’s pectoral muscle with a small, silver knife. “Ain’t that tough now, are you, you mindless little crap-flinger, huh?” George yelled again, not stopping his onslaught for a single moment.

  By this point, Josie’s vision had become clearer, and she could plainly see that the gunshot wounds were still readily apparent on Mark’s now butchered chest. For some reason he wasn’t recovering, instead merely lying there, helpless to stop himself from getting butchered. On the edge of despair, she clenched her hand into an impotent fist, while a streak of tears trickled down her contorted face.

  “I’ve seen stupid, but you… you pathetic excuse for a biped, you take the cake!” George continued the verbal onslaught along with the physical. “What retarded excuse for a rational being lays low in an illuminated cave?” he a
sked rhetorically, driving both pieces of cutlery into the base of Mark’s neck, where he twisted them around painfully, causing the shape-shifter to hiss horribly.

  Oh my God, Josie thought, the implications of what her former husband said hitting her in full force. If only I didn’t insist on the damned torches… She felt both of her fists clench, this time packing quite a bit more power. I should punch myself, she thought, but now there was no time. George’s comment had shocked her mind and body back into a functional state, and she had to make use of it.

  There was no need to try and do it quietly; George had been so occupied with what he was doing that she might as well have run a train through the cave. As fast as she was capable of, Josie leapt to her feet, taking a couple of quick strides toward the rifle that lay on the floor.

  Now grasping the weapon like a club with both her hands, Josie gripped it so hard one of her nails bled. Swiftly and without a hint of a warning, she made use of that instrument of death in an unconventional but effective way – by slamming it into the right side of George’s head. With a grotesque sound of bone cracking, the man’s limp body immediately hit the cold stone floor.

  Bleeding and drooling, the mutilated hunter still flailed his arms around, unaware that he was no longer carving Mark up. “You… you should have stuck to stealing picnic baskets,” George managed to mumble out one final sentence before his consciousness faded away into oblivion again.

  Still gripping the makeshift club, arms shaking from desperate anger, Josie stared into her former husband’s ruined face. She wanted to let him go. She really, really didn’t want to take his life. Unfortunately, she realized as she kept looking at Mark, still bleeding from both sides of his head, I simply don’t have that option anymore.

  Teeth clenched, she lifted the rifle over her head, staring into the man she was about to murder. I guess you were beyond help, George, Josie concluded, moments before she drove the weapon down into the man’s head, producing a horrifying splat.

  Not wanting to look at the mess she made, the woman immediately turned toward her lover. He was in bad shape, but to her relief still showed signs of breathing. Prior to the attack Josie interrupted, George had pulled the silver out of Mark’s body, so as to thrust them in deeper, and the wounds already seemed to have begun closing. Tears trickling down her cheek again, Josie wrapped her arms around her wild bear, embracing him lightly, so as not to cause any more damage.

  “I am so, so sorry,” she whimpered.

  Completely silent save for the wheezing sound he made with every breath, Mark merely lifted his own pair of bloodied arms before lowering them onto her body.

  ***

  A full five months have passed since that fateful day when Josie decided to leave her husband, and not a night went by without her waking up from a bad dream at least once. Luckily, a fully recovered Mark was always there to make the anxiety go away. He claimed that the dreams would eventually go away. Josie herself had her doubts about that, but she believed him anyway. That’s what love is after all, she thinks, believing in each other completely and utterly.

  The two of them have completely adapted to living off the fruits of the forests of Minnesota; both moving and unmoving. Life is good, Josie often found herself think, without having to force it like she did most of the time she was with George. But the rough, wild sex is even better. She smiled, content, as she had been every day she spent with Mark.

  Speaking of sex, the two of them recently had to slow things down a little bit, mostly due to Josie’s slowly expanding belly and the discomfort it provided during physical intimacy.

  “We’re having cubs!” Mark would roar every day, approaching every little survival task with renewed zest and vigor. He had told her that he wanted children for a long time, but couldn’t find himself a woman who was emotionally strong enough deal with all of this.

  I love it when he uses that rough, silver tongue of his, Josie thought, her expression decorated with a radiant smile.

  Turning around slowly, she took her time in observing the forest around their most recent shelter. Lush, fragrant and green, it seemed as if it came straight out of a fairy tale. Why anyone would not want to live there with such a man was completely beyond her.

  Their loss, she heard herself conclude silently, all while fondling her developing belly.

  All things considered, she looked forward to her new life here. It was incredible how little she missed all the expensive commodities and trinkets of the modern world.

  We become used to something to the point that its absence becomes unbearable, she found herself muse, when in fact, what we really need is something else entirely.

  Indeed, Josie thought, still enamored by the beauty of their forest, such is the folly of civilization.

  It is much better here.

  THE END

  BONUS BOOK 3

  Just Menaged To Forgive

  BBW PARANORMAL ROMANCE

  By: Jodie Springer

  Just Menaged To Forgive

  This is amazing.

  The thought echoed throughout the woman’s head as if she never had fast food before. Incidentally, she’s been having it several times a day, every day, for the past decade. It never got old.

  How can something this tasty not be good for you? The woman thought as she took another bite of her cheeseburger, the sixth one in a row she’s had within the last half an hour.

  Worth every penny, she concluded as the creamy filling melted, spreading within her oral cavity, as well as every additional pound. Playfully, she caressed the bulk of her belly, now even more swollen due to the sizeable meal she’s had.

  Pamela, old girl, you seem to have attained a new record, the woman mused, unable to see the palms of her hands as they’ve grasped the majority of her bulk. To most of the world, her size was something to be ashamed of.

  For Pamela Greene, Professor of World Literature, it was a point of pride. Few were the women with the courage not to conform to the rigid standards of beauty imposed by modern society, and fewer still were those who chose to toss them out of the window and embrace their exact opposite.

  And what kind of a life would the other option be? Pamela asked herself as she finished her burger, swallowing what was left of it with absolute pleasure. Dieting, exercising, having to plan your whole day out around some rigid program that “guaranteed” success? Not for me, thank you.

  Pleased with herself, the professor cleaned her face with a soft paper wipe before tossing it onto the table. Absent-mindedly, she turned her head left and right, more out of habit than any actual need to see what was where. She was at the university, in her office, doing what she did every day after class was over. There was not a detail in the room that she did not know in and out.

  Now back in reality and down from the seventh heaven that fast food always sent her to, Pamela immediately found herself faced with the not so radiant side of her decisions: loneliness. Aside from the occasional flings she had a good while ago, the professor was single.

  They just can’t handle this much of a woman, she kept telling herself, but the facts spoke more than her rationale ever could. Outside of the pleasures of food and reading, life was getting kind of dull.

  Yeah, like becoming a slave to some pre-created system will make everything more exciting. Displeased by her current train of thought, the professor slowly rose from her seat, grabbing the improvised table cloth with both of her hands. Carefully, she lifted everything from her work desk, carrying it to the oversized waste basket in the corner and unloading it in.

  What I need now is a confortable, stress-free drive home, the woman concluded, grabbing her coat with one hand while unlocking the door with the other. Hurriedly, she passed through and locked it, eager to get the whole University in her rearview mirror.

  What is wrong with you, girl? Pamela asked herself, completely baffled by the sudden change in her attitude. Sure, life might have been boring, but it was a good kind of boring. There was not a thing she had
to do that she didn’t enjoy. Who else could claim that their existence was so deprived of anything unpleasant?

  Yet despite this fact, the professor pondered as she paced through the corridors of the University’s higher segments, there appears to be something missing. With a single extended finger, she summoned the elevator from whatever it currently was, all while semi-nervously tapping her right foot on the floor. It was hot; unlike the offices, the hallways were not as well air-conditioned.

  Within a minute, Pamela was down on ground floor, and with that comforting fact came another, far less pleasant one: she had to walk all the way to the parking lot. Oh well, the woman repeated what she silently said to herself every day, at least you’ll burn out some of the energy you’ve just put into yourself.

  As if the weight of the world itself rested upon her shoulders, Pamela Greene set herself toward the University’s main hallway, completely focused on getting to her car. So all-consuming was her intent that she almost didn’t notice the distinct, feminine figure that leaned against the wall to her right, seemingly waiting for someone.

  The students get older every year, the professor thought as she made her way toward the exit, passing by the stranger while paying her as little heed as possible. In a mere five minutes she will be in her car. By that point, all the unpleasantness that she had to endure within the last five minutes will be far behind her.

  “This isn’t like you, Pam,” the person spoke, her voice silky and mirthful despite the somewhat mocking tone, “Ignoring an old friend like that.”

  Instantly recognizing the sound of the other woman’s voice, Pamela turned away as fast as her sizeable body allowed, her foggy disposition transformed into an irate one. Marie Jackson, you slimy little serpent, I’ve never expected to see you again.

  For well over half a minute the professor stared into her former friend, incapable of forming any sort of coherent response. The silence lasted for so long that finally, Marie chose to be the one to break it.